One of the Admirals came on board for an inspection today.

I was quite upset. Nobody told me.

After yelling at Spock for a bit, I composed myself and headed for the transporter room. I hoped the Admiral wouldn't notice the large white stain on my torn uniform and that he would forget the rather embarrassing 5 minute wait I had forced him to endure.

Admiral N. Surance introduced himself gruffly and looked at me like I was a dog biscuit.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been listening to this drunken idiot prattle on about the highlands for 5 minutes whilst you finished off some unspeakable act with a junior officer in your quarters, by the look of it."

I explained (rather well, i thought) that the stain wasn't what it looked like, and that I had a pet goat in my quarters. He looked even more horrified. I explained that it was the milk of the goat adorning my uniform and not the goats reproductive juices as he probably thought.

A horrible silence ensued

"Right. I've seen and heard enough already. It's testament to your reputation as the most woefully inadequate Captain in the fleet that I don't even need to leave the transporter room to know that you are completely incapable of performing your duties on this ship. You and this pathetic excuse for an officer are suspended. I'm turning over your captaincy to Science Officer Spock. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

There was more quiet unpleasantness.

Scotty asked if anyone fancied a belt of Scotch.

The Admiral turned to leave, without saying a word in passing i might add. As he did so, I had a flash of inspiration and shot him in the back with my phaser. He dropped quicker than a pop idol winner.

Scotty looked at me, boggle eyed.

"Ya cannae do that, Cap'n! You'll be courtmartialled."

I told him that if he valued his job, and the luxury of drinking whilst upon it, he would beam the Admiral down to the nearest class M planet with the necessary memory adjustments and tell the rest of the crew a story about the admirals crippling drink addiction and how we had to beam him off the ship for being unruly. We would be hailed as heroes by friends of mine in starfleets internal affairs division. They always wanted fresh meat. Especially from the top of the pile.

Scotty shook his head in disbelief and reached for the buttons.

Problem solved!